Angel Blades
by AllisonWonderland421
Summary: Dean finds Castiel harming himself in the bathroom. Destiel if you squint. Self hate, depictions of self harm and anxiety! Please don't read if these are triggers for you. Cross-posted on Ao3.


Ugliness.  
That's what Castiel saw when he looked into his own sea blue eyes, staring into the mirror above the sink. Not that he thought himself ugly superficially. He didn't really have a concrete understanding of beauty, so he'd never really contemplated whether or not Jimmy Novak had been an attractive person. No, he was ugly on the inside. He was selfish, a rogue angel with an insatiable thirst for Godliness. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could take God's place?

He turned off the water from the sink, running his hands through his hair. The pressure building up inside of his gut was too much now, pushing up into his chest and leaving him with the feeling that he'd soon explode if he didn't take care of it, now. He paced the length of the bathroom, barely able to keep up with the thoughts that raced through his mind. _You don't have to do this,_ his internal reason told him. _Tell Sam. Tell Dean. Tell Gabriel, for crying out loud!_

Cas was close, so close to listening to that reason. So close to opening the bathroom door and finding the nearest Winchester to keep him from doing what he was about to do.  
 _Do you truly think they would listen to you, Castiel?_ You honestly think they'd care? The overwhelming voice of his self-hatred mocked. _You know you deserve it. Look at what you did to them._  
He nodded, the manifestation of his own self-loathing conquering the voice of reason. Castiel frantically felt around in his jacket for his angel blade, sighing with relief as his hand touched the cold metal.

 _Don't do it.  
Do it.  
They'll help you.  
_ _They'll hate you more than they already do._

Before he allowed himself to consciously make a decision, Cas felt the cool blade slicing deeply into his forearm. Then again. And again. He was losing count of how many times he dragged the metal across his arm and how much crimson fluid was dripping to the floor. All he could focus on was the alleviation of pressure from his chest, coming out in the blood that seeped from his skin.

A knock on the door brought him back to his senses.  
"Cas? You in there?" Dean's voice called through the door. Castiel could've slapped himself at his sheer stupidity. The bathrooms in the bunker had fans installed in the ceiling, ones that automatically activated whenever the light turned on. Combine that with the fact that both Winchesters were fairly light sleepers, it was inevitable that one of them would come to investigate the fan being on for so long at this time of the night.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." He replied shakily, dropping his blade onto the counter and steadying himself over the sink. He peered down at his own body, horrified by the amount of blood that coated his jacket and shirt. The floor was a sight for sore eyes, crimson droplets all over the place.

"You okay man?" He could hear Dean's voice laden with concern and it killed him. Dean shouldn't have to be concerned about him. The Hunter had enough on his mind, he didn't have to worry about trivial things like what Cas was doing to himself.  
"I'm fine."  
"Cas, open the door."  
Cas stayed rooted in place, staring at his own reflection. His ugly, blasphemous reflection.  
"Castiel, open the damn door. _Now_."

Castiel silently complied, unlatching the lock on the door and standing back to give Dean room to swing the door open. He mentally prepared himself for the hate, for the anger and frustration that was about to be unleashed unto him.  
Dean stepped into the bathroom.  
"Cas, what- are you hurt? You've gotta tell us when you get stabbed, man, you aren't invincible or anything." Dean was clearly annoyed, already reaching for the first aid kit. Cas exhaled heavily. Dean hadn't noticed the cuts yet.

"Okay, where'd you get-" The hunter glanced down at the bloodied angel blade on the counter. "-Huh?"  
"It's nothing." Cas stood, trying to snatch the blade away. Dean had grabbed his arm before he could even reach for it.  
"What the..." Cas didn't dare to meet Dean's eyes, eyes he was sure were filled with frustration and anger. "What the _Hell_ , Cas?!"  
"I understand your frustration," Cas spoke monotonously, even though it wasn't his intention. The hunter shook his head.  
"I'm not- I'm not _angry,_ Cas." Dean got Castiel to lay his arm on the counter, the Hunter setting out the kit for bandaging.

"Oh... okay," Cas mumbled, wincing as Dean began to disinfect the cuts before laying layers of bandages on top of them. The two stayed silent for a while, the only sound being the occasional gasp of pain from Castiel.  
"So, Cas," Dean broke the silence as he finished wrapping. "How long's this been going on for?"  
"I've dabbled in numerous methods of self-inflicted injury, but this is my first time cutting." He explained.  
"Dammit man, you can't just- you can talk to us, you know?" Dean was pacing the room now, just as Cas had been before. "Me and Sam, we're here."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Don't be sorry, alright? Just... just tell us when you feel the need to do that, Cas." The angel nodded. "We don't need to talk about it tonight, but we've gotta talk about this."  
"I know." Cas replied, staring down at the floor. It was no longer covered in droplets, just streaky crimson lines that Cas knew were going to be a bitch to clean in the morning.


End file.
